DOWN AND OUT

They rose majestically, swelling the hazy background with their bulbous shapes.  Some were tree covered, others stark, like castle walls and you suspected some were still unconquered.  This was just before we entered the tunnel, all six kilometres, three hundred and twenty seven point four metres of it.  We know this because our friendly and learned railway worker told us so, just one of the 34 tunnels we were to travel through.  It was just before he alighted at his home town of Podbrdo, yet another Slovenian town I’d never learn to pronounce.  I mean, how can you throw four consonants together like that and get a sensible sound?

                                                               Nova Gorica

He was an odd man, in the nicest possible way, and had started engaging us in conversation on the first leg of our journey from Ljubljana to Jesenice.  He was interested in cameras and explained his exotic collection of film cameras that he still found a use for, one of which had a bellows.  At one stage we moved to languages; I believe when I was trying to pronounce Jesenice.  It only took me seventeen goes to get a passable version uttered.  The last bit sounds like Nietzsche, another multiple consonant word I note.

                                                 

He explained that, in the English language, we go from singular to plural, whilst the Slav tongue goes from singular to double to plural, making it even more complicated.  I felt like saying if they stopped the weird array of consonants that would make it simpler at least.

Just before we reached Jesenice, the train stopped at Lesce Bled station, which is where Lorraine and I originally intended to alight to get to Lake Bled the day before, but ended up on a bus instead.

                                                

After changing trains at Jesenice, the first stop was Bled Jezero, high above Lake Bled on the opposite side with flashing glimpses of the gorgeous body of water below.  Also of note was the packed carpark and about 200 backpacker tents in the adjacent forest.  From here the route was the finest train trip, dollar for dollar, that I’ve ever been on.  When not in a tunnel, there was almost always a river on one side or the other, becoming an opalesque green the further south we plunged.  Villages came and went and we stopped at every one.  

                                 

The stops invariably had no platform; they’d be closed due to O.H. &S. issues in Australia but, here, they still alight down to rail level and have to walk across the tracks.  It was all so rustic and I loved every minute of it.

                                                   

                                                 No room for dodgy knees here

I was doing my level best to record the journey as the scenery flashed by, but photography from moving train windows is problematic at best and all the time you’re trying to gawk at the magnificence of it all.  Lorraine was also prompting me here and there and other times telling me about the great shot I’d just missed because I wasn’t on her side of the train.  Somewhere near Bohinjska Bistrica I caught a glimpse of the towering bare eastern end of the Dolomites and my heart skipped a beat, knowing I’d be up there next week.

   

On the opposite side Lorraine noted a creek bank that was full of sun bathing backpackers and all their gear.  Oh, to be young again!

Further down the line were the dams, evidently put in for hydro-electric schemes and, at one of them, a cute little paddle wheeler was giving tourists a ride to remember.  Here the waters were still and reflective and added to the beauty of the scenery.  At other stops it was apparent that timber was a going concern as hundreds of just cut logs lay beside the line ready for shipment to who knows where.

 

It was about the time the Austrian lady told us that the next stop was Nova Gorica and that we would cross the Solkan Bridge; at 220 metres, the second longest stone bridge in the world.  I would later be sorry that I hadn’t been paying more attention but it detracted little from the overall enjoyment of having had a true “Great Train Journey”.

 

Shot taken a couple of days later of Solkan Bridge

Now we were down off the mountains, into the foothills and would soon be out of Slovenia and into Italy.